As happens, I was looking for something else and stumbled across this movie. It didn't catch my interest based on what I'd read about it, until I saw it was based on a novel of the same name, by William Irish, which was a pseudonym of Cornell Woolrich, one of the masters of noir.

The story is a variant on the classic noir plot, "Did I do it?" in which a sailor, Alex, wakes up in NYC from a night of drinking to find he's considerably cash-richer than he was. He only barely remembers the night, but does remember a mysterious woman gave him the cash.

In seeking to find her and return the money, Alex, discovers his dubious benefactor, Edna, is dead and since he can't remember the night, he himself is an obvious suspect. With the help of a dance-hall girl, June, Alex sets out to find out who really killed Edna. The title comes from the fact that he has only a few hours before he needs to catch a bus to report to his naval station for duty. 

Now, any time you stumble across a minor noir film, there's always people claiming it's a masterpiece and the public just doesn't understand it. This isn't a masterpiece, but it's unusual, for the time, in that the main "detective" is a woman - June. Now, June is not your typical noir frail, neither is she a femme fatale. Instead, she embodies the kind of world-weariness you usually see in cops or P.I.s. The world is terrible and she's just along for the ride because she has no choice, although in her case, her jadedness comes from her lot in life as a dance-hall girl--constantly being hit on by strange men, etc--it's no less real than that of the men who usually lead these films.

Why, then, does she take pity on Alex? Well, you get the feeling that he's just big and dumb and innocent-looking enough that she takes pity on him and maybe thinks he's even slightly worse off than she is. After that, she takes the lead and they get things done.

The movie itself isn't anything particularly special: a lot of wandering around, talking to people (almost at random) piecing together clues. Edna, it seems, was in the blackmail business and finally crossed the wrong person. Same old story, right?

Well, it's a B-movie certainly, but not cheaply nor unskillfully made. From what I've read, this was director Harold Clurman's first and only film, and it's obvious that he put time and consideration into it, rather than just hacking it out and what he ended up with, while not spectacularly, is perfectly solid - especially for a first effort. For that alone, I think it deserves to be remembered. 

In 1969, writer Don Pendleton published his novel War Against the Mafia, a novel of a Vietnam vet's (initially) one-man war against the Mafia, in retaliation for their tangential killing of his parents and sister. Mack Bolan, the Executioner, sounds very Punisheresque, no? Well, that's because he's actually the direct inspiration for the Punisher, per creator Gerry Conway, though less-well known by the public.

Pendleton certainly made his mark, however, as, in addition to the 38 Executioner novels he wrote himself, more than five-hundred additional novels have been written by various writers and published under published by Gold Eagle (a division of Harlequin).

Read on.

I bought this novel on a whim because I enjoy a lot of Japanese fiction and the elevator pitch--"Rashomon in an all-girl's high school"--sounded like it might have potential. Not only did it have potential, it blew away my expectations. 

Read on.

If you haven't seen the Akira Kurosawa film Rashomon, the story is essentially six characters telling subjective, contradictory and very self-serving accounts of their own recollection of a murder. Each character's story paints themselves in a positive light and casts suspicion on someone else.

The Dark Maidens is very similar, albeit a modern day version set in a Catholic missionary, all-girl's private high school in Japan. 

Itsumi, the beautiful, kind, intelligent and exceptionally popular (think benevolent queen of the school) president of the school's literature club has died - violently. Whether it is is suicide or murder, the police have not yet determined, but rumors fly around the school that one of the six other members of the school's literature club has murdered her.

One week later, the literature club is meeting for its annual mystery stew slash original short-story-reading event, the event last of the school-year. Itsumi's best friend, Sayuri, formerly the vice-president and now president of the club, has decided to go on with the event despite Itsumi's death, knowing her best friend would want her beloved club to continue this tradition. The twist is that Sayuri has asked each girl to write, instead of a piece of original fiction, a story about their relationship with Itsumi.

What follows is, like in Rashomon, six stories, one for each girl, detailing how close each was with Itsumi, how wonderful Itsumi was to her and casting suspicion on another member of the club. Throughout these stories, bits and pieces (unbeknowst to the girls) of the truth are interwoven. They're not things you can easily pick up on while reading the stories for the first time, but by the end of the novel, I was genuinely impressed with how Akiyoshi seeded "facts" among the fiction.

Aside from that, the last arc of the novel, Sayuri's story, actually written by Itsumi before her death, threw several twists into the narrative. One, I suspected, but others I never saw coming and was not only surprised, but delighted. The last few pages of the work, especially, throw all the shadows and murkiness of what's come before into stark relief - and in a brutal fashion I could never have expected from the rest of the novel.

If it wasn't obvious, I greatly enjoyed the work. If I have any complaint, it's a personal one rather than a real critique of the work and it's only because I am a westerner reading a novel originally written for Japanese audiences, that being that there's a great deal of space devoted to explaining various Christian holidays and Catholic ceremonies. This is entirely understandable for a Japanese audience, as very few would be familiar with these concepts, but as a westerner, they sort of dragged the narrative down in a few places.

Don't, however, let that deter you. Overall, this is a great novel. I literally couldn't put it down as I read and ended up reading it in one sitting. Very much recommended. 

As I mentioned a few months ago, I sold a western story to Crimson Streets Magazine. Originally scheduled for July, it's been published in this week's issue.

Please click here to read (or click the image below) and let me know what you think. It's a story I'm quite proud of, and I hope to do more with Marshal Ernie Farrar at some point in the future!

I have a friend who, for years off and on, has tried to get me to read the works of Charles Willeford, a writer who got started in the peak years of the early 50s paperback original boom, but didn't find his fame as a writer, really, until the mid-80s (shortly before he passed, sadly). The stuff described to me didn't really seem like it was anything I was interested in, but, upon seeing a used copy of Black Lizard Books' edition of Willeford's first novel Pick-Up, I bought, read and absolutely hated it.

I wrote Willeford off after that. That was a mistake.

A couple of weeks ago, during a visit to my favorite used bookstore, another customer asked the clerk if they had any Willeford. The clerk said they only rarely got any and the books didn't stay on the shelf long when they did. "People love their Willeford," he said. I interrupted, related my experience with Willeford and asked what these two guys would recommend. They shared a look and the clerk said, "Yeah, Pick-Up isn't good," to which the other customer agreed. They talked back and forth, then agreed Willeford's best work was Cockfighter. 

Having only read two Willeford novels, I'm not prepared to swear Cockfighter is the best - but it is good. It's not the kind of novel I normally read nor at all what I expected. Willeford is widely considered a crime novelist, based on his Hoke Mosely, P.I., series but his early work--including Pick-Up--are not crime novels. Rather, they are more like blue-collar literary novels, for lack of a better term. While Pick-Up was slow, depressing and frankly boring in its description of the minutia of a character we know very little about's life,  Cockfighter is swift-paced (despite covering a much greater period of time) and lacks a lot of details, while telling us quite a bit more about Frank Mansfield, the protagonist.

Frank, you see, is a professional cockfighter (raising and fighting roosters, of course) with a dream: to be the very best cockfighter in the world - by the standards of his chosen crowd, of course. To do this, he wants to win the coveted Cockfighter of the Year medal, handed out at the whim of the owner of the Southern Cockfighting Tournament. As a sacrifice to his own hard work and sense of honor while he works towards accomplishing his dream, Frank has sworn not to speak a word until he earns that medal. At the start of the novel, he hasn't spoken in two years and seven months. 

Essentially, Cockfighter is a southern-fried sports road-trip novel (loosely patterned after Homer's Odyssey, according to Willeford himself), jam-packed with a tremendous amount of technical information on the raising and care of gamecocks, the history and etiquette of the sport, and the brutality of the lives the men involved lead. They aren't necessarily bad people (some of them are), but the sense of simmering violence, unleashed through the birds they raise and train was actually kind of disturbing.

At the same time, the novel has a kind of rough beauty, giving the reader insight into a world and its denizens most of us probably will never be exposed to (thankfully; I have zero interest in seeing a real cock-fight. I agree with the SPCA on this one wholeheartedly), and the personal meaning behind what they do. Frank Mansfield, and maybe Willeford himself, identifies people by the they hold and their relationships to them over and over and over again. A truck-driver who hates it is is a whiny slob because he wants a desk-job, but Omar Baradinsky, Frank's friend who was once an extremely successful New York City advertising executive who retired at the top of his field, is a sort of awe-inspiring figure because he not only succeeded at his original chosen field, he made a decisive change when he realized he was unhappy. Frank's brother Randall trains as a lawyer, but never applies himself to the profession, sporadically supporting himself by writing, so he is a failure in Frank's eyes. Throughout all of these people and professions, Frank knows exactly who he is: a cockfighter. To Frank, knowing who you are is one of the most important things there is.

My major complaint with the novel is one of timing: originally published as a paperback original in 1962, much of the background information about characters harkens back to, for 1962, relatively recent times: World War II and the 1950s, and works just fine. However, the "definitive" edition of the novel, published in 1972 as a hardcover, was somewhat re-written by Willeford, but only sporadically takes into account the ten year time difference, leading to a few jarring instances that took me out of the story, such as the eight years Frank has been out of army, taking him back to the 50s, but the truck-driver having served in Vietnam.

Overall, it was a good novel. It's not a crime novel as I expected, not a sports novel (although that's vaguely close to a good description), only sort-of a road-trip novel, but I enjoyed it and it was definitely a nice change of pace.

Now, of course, I have to reconsider my opinion of Willeford and maybe try out some more of his work.

​Any recommendations?

Fore note: these haven't truly been nightly in a long time, but I need something to call these, so enjoy some Nightly Noir (season II).

Now! Unlike last week's PLEASE MURDER ME!, THE LADY IN THE LAKE is something I intentionally tracked down. Based on the Raymond Chandler novel of the same name, I wanted to see how the two compared. As friends, fans, readers know, I am a big fan of Chandler (although I am not without my criticisms, as well, of course).

Anyway, let's see how Phillip Marlowe's fourth novel-length case translates to the silver screen.

The fourth Marlowe novel and fifth film adapted from Chandler's Marlowe works, this one is a great novel that was turned into an, uh... interesting experiment by star/director Robert Montgomery. Montgomery was already a film star by this point, but this film was his directorial debut and he was clearly looking to make a big splash for himself right out of the gate. The property was certainly a winner: with a string of successful books and film adaptations to the character's name, Marlowe was a known commodity that audiences would have looked forward to the same way audiences today look forward to James Bond or Jason Bourne movies: they knew what they were getting and they liked that. Montgomery wanted to shake things up, though: he tried to capture the first-person perspective narration of the novels by shooting the film from Marlowe's POV. Except for a few places where he addresses the camera directly, we never see him and see only what he does. There's a lot of possibilities here, but they aren't really used. Frankly, it gets old quickly and begins to get annoying.

Additionally, the script diverges from the novel considerably, turning Marlowe into an aspiring writer trying to leave his private detective career behind and... they made it a Christmas movie. The writing thing doesn't affect the plot considerably, but it felt kind of shoehorned in. The Christmas thing is mostly cosmetic, too, although it's used as a plot-point eventually. 

So, is it a good movie? No. It's really not. I give Montgomery credit for trying something new and different, but he basically failed.

I haven't done one of these in ages (and never here at the site, so far as I remember), but while looking for something else, I stumbled on this probably-forgotten noir gem, starring two of the greatest TV actors of all time (according to TV Guide's 1996 rankings), Angela Lansbury and Raymond Burr: 1956's ​Please Murder Me!

The set-up is classic noir: it beings with Craig, a lawyer, as he records his confession for crimes he's semi-unwittingly helped a client get away with and how he expects she will murder him within the hour.

Long story short:

Craig (Burr) is having an affair with Myra (Lansbury), his best friend Joe's wife. Unable to stand the guilt, and wanting to be with Myra free and clear, Craig tells Joe and asks him to divorce Myra. Joe doesn't refuse, but asks for time.

While other doings occur, Joe confronts Myra and, behind a closed door (blocking the action), a gun is fired, leaving Joe dead. Myra claims self-defense, Craig bolsters this by telling the court (at Myra's murder trial) that he and Myra are lovers and he knows Joe well enough to know he might have gone crazy and tried to attack her. Myra is found not guilty.

Later, Craig finds a letter Joe had addressed to him, but never got to send, stating Myra has been in love with an artist named Holt for years and Myra is using both Craig and Joe. After finding evidence of this, Craig confronts Myra and tells her he'll trick her into killing him, alleviating his guilt and so she'll go to prison the way she should have. In the end, he does trick her into killing him, more or less in the presence of the district attorney.

The film has all the sweaty, manic guilt you'd expect of noir, as well as a few great shots. Is it good, though? No, not really. There's not much suspense in the story since you know Craig is going to die and who will do it. The journey from points A to B is decent and both Burr and Lansbury show off more acting chops than a B movie like this deserves. That's probably why both went on to greater things while this was director Peter Godfrey's final film.

Recommended? Not really, unless you're a big Lansbury or Burr fan, but it is free to watch on the Internet Archive if you're interested.

I wanted to take a moment to share a Kickstarter currently running for an anthology called DRABBLEDARK.

Edited by Eric Fomley, who accepted one of my stories for the book, DRABBLEDARK will feature 100 flash fiction horror stories. Currently, Eric is running a Kickstarter to help defray the publishing costs and the goals are quite reasonable.

Check it out here, see what it's all about, and snag yourself a pre-order!

It's been a while since I've done a manga Stuff I Like, but then, it's been a while since I've read one I really wanted to talk about. So, without further ado, let's talk about MY BOY.

I almost didn't buy this manga. I don't read a lot of josei (women's) manga, though some of the series I have, I've really, really loved (THE HOUSE OF FIVE LEAVES; DESCENDING STORIES). This series, though, MY BOY, I was attracted to only because of the art--which is gorgeous--while the story itself, and the cover art, left me with the impression this might not be a story for me. 

I was wrong. It's fantastic.

MY BOY is the story of Satoko, a 30-year-old office lady, single and without friends (or, apparently, family) living a very quiet, soul-crushingly mundane and lonely existence. At 30 years old, she's only had one romantic relationship in her life, a very brief one at that, her last year of college, eight years earlier. At the time, it didn't bother her, but now she suspects it's the moment her life went off the rails, though she couldn't say why.

MY BOY is also the story of Mashuu, an ostracized, bullied 12-year-old boy who suffers from family neglect (including lack of new clothing and haircuts; no really, it's why he's wearing clothes a young elementary student would and hasn't had a haircut in a couple years, leading people to think he's a girl), who spends most of his time outside of school alone, practicing soccer, which he isn't very good at.

The two's lives intersect when Satoko, reeling from a particularly unpleasant interaction with her boss (who, through an unlikely stroke off fate, is the same man who briefly dated then dumped her in college), sees Mashuu practicing soccer alone in the park and, on a whim, decides to give him some pointers. Mashuu is thrilled to have anyone, especially an adult, pay attention to him and share in his passion. From there, a very unlikely relationship builds between the two.

The author, Hitomi Takano, says in her afterwards that this manga is intentionally a gender-reversal of the typical onee-san/shota (young miss/boy) manga trope, in which a young girl finds an companion in an older boy or man. In fact, the story started out that way, but, she says, she lost interest in it right way until she decided to flip the switch. I'm glad she did because I've enjoyed it a lot so far.

Not only is the manga beautiful, but the interactions between the characters very realistic, which you often don't find in this types of comics. Both Satoko and Mashuu are hesitant, unsure of themselves and how they can/should interact with one another. Satoko, because she has no experience with children and isn't sure what's appropriate; Mashuu because he has no friends to speak of and no real parental figure. Both are extremely lonely, extremely vulnerable people and watching them find each other is powerful and moving as Satoko's motherly instinct and desire to matter to someone brings out aspects of herself she didn't realize existed and Mashuu finds that he can be himself and have value, rather than simply trying to keep his head down and stay out of everyone's way. Together, they compliment each other's weaknesses and build each other's strengths.

Only the first volume is out in English, but it's a tremendous read. As I said, I almost didn't buy this (and in fact almost cancelled my order once I had after having second thoughts), but I'm very, very glad I did. I truly enjoyed reading something outside of my normal reading wheelhouse and I'm looking forward to the next volume very much.

On a recent used bookstore trip, I intentionally collected a number of paperbacks from authors I'd only read a few books from (as well, of course, as favorites). One of those was Stuart Kaminski's MURDER ON THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD, featuring P.I. Toby Peters. I think I'll have to read more of these.

​Read on for why.

Previously, I'd read some of Kaminski's Inspector Rostnikov novels, featuring a Soviet police detective behind the Iron Curtain, as well as his Kolchak the Nightstalker tie-in works. I wasn't familiar with the Toby Peters series (Kaminski's longest) until I saw this.

The Toby Peters novels predate the Rostnikov novels by several years (Kaminski's first two novels, I now know, Kaminski continued to write about the character until his passing in 2009). Written in a very different style than I'm used to from Kaminski, this work is both lighter and in a way, more entertaining as far as I'm concerned.

The year is 1940, the place is Los Angeles, and Toby Peters is both a  former cop and former trouble-shooter for Warner Brothers, now turned private eye. Called to MGM (Metro Goldwyn-Meyer) by none other than Judy Garland, Peters is tasked with investigating the murder of one of the little people who played a Munchkin in the film adaptation of Oz, over a year after the film has wrapped, all while being charged with keeping it quiet to avoid damaging the studio's reputation.

As I mentioned, the tone of the book is very light and the pace brisk. Toby Peters is a typical wisecracking, underpaid P.I., and both he and the book remind me of a lighter version of Max Allan Collins's Nate Heller mysteries, as both are filled with real locations and people (including Clark Gable, Raymond Chandler and others), though of course the events in this novel are entirely fictional. 

I don't need to go too much into the plot, as it's more functional than anything else, but as I said, the tone is light, the pace is brisk, the dialogue is often funny and I enjoyed it a great deal. There's something like two-dozen of these mysteries and I plan to read more at some point in the future. It'll be interesting to see how the books evolve over the 30 plus years Kaminski was writing.

​Recommended if you see copies!